


Guardians Aren't Real

by MooseDeRPs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angel Dean Winchester, Guardian Angels, Human Castiel, M/M, RP, role play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseDeRPs/pseuds/MooseDeRPs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You see, Dean Winchester, you are going to be made into an Guardian Angel.”</p><p>Those words were going to haunt Dean for the rest of his natural life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You see, Dean Winchester, you are going to be made into a Guardian Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I play Dean, my friend plays Castiel.

Dean didn't see it coming, fuck he should have, but... He _didn't_ and now he has no fucking clue where the hell he is or even _what_ the hell he is. He isn't a monster and he sure as hell isn't _alive_. Not with the hole he has going through him currently. He looked around, all around him an ever encompassing darkness that made him feel small and insignifcant, more so than usual. He tried to step forward, only for a compression to stumble him and force him to lie face down in the ground? What is he even _standing_ on?

 

It felt like hours that he was lying on that mirky blackness, his mind going over his final moments. Were they his final moments? He didn't know. All he knew is that this darkness is begining to piss him off and the hole in his chest feels like its getting bigger with each passing second and god damnit where the hell is Sam. Is he okay? _Fuck_. Leave it to him to go off and die on the easiest of hunts and leave his brother alone. Just fan- _fucking_ -tastic of him.

 

He let out a large curse, punching (or trying really he can't even lift a finger) the area around him. He can't believe he let that ghost get the better of him and... Throw him through the window. Which would have been fine if it wasn't on a two story building that led straight to a pile of _beautifully_ placed sharp as hell concrete blocks and metal prods. Man who the hell even leaves stuff like that lying around? He groaned, his irritation at himself and the situation becoming more prominet.

 

Well, whatever is going on he's sure he can handle it, get out of whatever is going on and make sure Sam is well and alive and... Well make sure none of them make this mistake again. Hours (or minutes he couldn't tell) passed and still nothing happened. His eyes still staring down at the floor or sky or _whatever_ it was, entire body being pressed down by an invisible force. His anger and fear long since dissipated into sadness and regret.

 

Which apparently was all he needed to get done because the moment he stopped being pissed the entire world shifted into a blinding light and somehow he was standing upright without moving. His head spun with trying to figure out the physics of that while his eyes scrunched tight, the peircing light too much to handle after the deafening darkness. Moments later of him cursing under his breath his head started to calm down, the ringing pain leaving, he peeked an eye open and jumped back.

 

 _What the hell is that?_ He thought with wide eyes, the figure before him somehow everything and nothing in the room all at once. The light that surrounded him, he noticed, was moving and appeared to be... _alive_. He shuddered and tried to get away, he didn't care where he was trying to go but as long as it was away from that thing and its wings and eyes and... Seriously just what the hell is that thing?

 

His eyes stung the longer he was surrounded by the light and no matter how fast or hard he ran it was somehow still around him and _seeing_ him or some shit like that.

 

“Enough Dean Winchester.” The voice shook through him and he stopped, shocked at himself for listening and for the fact the voice was everywhere, surrounding and consuming him. He held back a choked question, fear coursing through him. This was the first time he's ever been so close to something so powerful and just, well he was terrified and he's pretty sure he's got the right to be okay?

 

“Turn around.” He complied, turning slowly and feeling blinded by the brilliant light that seemed to be endlessly pouring from the creature. “We are not _creatures_ and if you are to ever to refer to us as such I will not be responsible for what will happen to you.” Holy shit what now? “Your thoughts are not hidden from us Dean Winchester.” The voice supplied, its body shifting slightly and taking on a more definable shape. Which was terrifying to say the least; its body long like a serpent, stretching on for miles with three heads of different fearsome creatures, and two sets of impossibly large wings. Okay what the hell world, dad's journal had nothing recorded about this.

 

“That is because the likes of your father has never been allowed to see us.” The mention of his father and scorn barely concealed in the things voice felt like a bullet peircing Dean's gut. Okay so apparently whatever this thing was it did not like his father. Okay yeah, fine (not) by him. He swallowed thickly, standing arrow straight and glared down the creature, Dean Winchester was not a coward and will face down whatever this is and get out alive. No matter how hard.

 

He could perhaps go for one of its heads, maybe the eyes. Those are usually weak points for any animal (creature, thing, monster, _whatever_ ) and go on from there. Would it be wise to attack it? Fuck that he's going for it. Maybe, he'll just wait a few moments, that's all. Just thinking through, he's _not_ rooted to the spot out of fear so shut it.

 

His motions only seemed to amuse the monster, one of its head's mouth curling into a wicked smile. “You are unable to escape Dean Winchester, you are in the presence of an angel.” His mind screeched to a halt. Angels? Fucking _really_? Pretty little people in white robes and wings singing hail mary or some shit like that? Fuck no, this thing must be some kind of snake monster that gave him some strange hallucinogenic and now he's just lying on the floor in some cave getting the life fed out of him while waiting for Sam to rescue him. Yeah that's it.

 

“Do you lack faith in us Dean Winchester?” The snake said, anger and fury coarsing through its words. Of course he lacks fucking faith! What the hell has that ever done for him? Nada, zip, zilch, that's what. He said as much and was nearly knocked down by the power that pulsed through the air from the monster, its wings raising in a threatening arch above its head and the snake head on it throwing itself back, as if about to strike. Doesn't matter, he thought weakly, if he's going down again at least he'll go down standing.

 

“ _Enough Teriel!_ ” A voice boomed, shaking the very foundation of the strange world Dean and the supposed angel (Teriel) stood in. Dean prided himself in still standing when a second monstrous snake flew in, its eyes a peircing red in all three of its heads and wings an almost ginger color. It seemed angry at Teriel, its wings feathers fluffing slightly as it spoked in a hushed tone, even if it still seemed to flow through Dean. Teriel sent one glare down at Dean before disappearing in a flutter of wings and what he guessed some curses of his own.

 

Dean turned towards the other monster, pushing back his fear and attempting to format himself into a fighting stance. This one seemed to soften at the edges, its wings resting flat as its body swirled down into itself, down down down until it took a... human shape? Standing in place of the large monster stood a short red head, naked body female and eyes no longer red but hazel. He still stood guarded and ready to fight, no matter what appearance his opponent took.

 

“Do not be scared Dean Winchester. My name is Anniel, you may call me Anna however.” Her voice was more soft than her other form, it still did nothing to soothe him. She seemed to sense this and neared him slowly (as one would a wounded animal), her hands moving in a pattern and he felt himself grow lethargic, his eyes drooping and body slumping forward with the suddne struggle to stay upright.

 

“What... the hell... did you do...” He managed to say, his voice sounding weak and pitiful compared to the ones he had previously heard. Anniel smiled, her hands returning to her sides.

 

“I merely calmed you Dean, you will need to be for what you about to hear.” Her voice was soft, and with some form of fucked up nostalgia she reminded him of his mother. “You see, Dean Winchester, you are going to be made into an Guardian Angel.”

 

 

It was a slow, sauntering day. The earth's never ending orbit around the sun seemed to liesurely make it's route. The clouds were large and looked like giant cotton balls in the blue sky, Castiel found pleasure in the cool breeze hitting his face. It was still early but he was an early riser so to speak, never missing out in the wee hours of the morning. The streets were empty, no sounds rose from the street or from his neighbors. He loved this time of day for that reason. It felt like he was all alone in the world, not to ever be bothered by anyone. He wondered if this is what it'd be like if every human on the planet were to vanish simultaneously, exept himself of course.

 

He was never lonely per say, just in absence of company. It was easier that way, since he was a child he found the quiet better than anything else. In silence he found peace, such a lovely feeling. It was always normal for Castiel, sure; he saw strange things on TV, but it never happened to him so he shed no concern. Stories like finding dismembered people or humans with liquefied organs unnerved him but he never really put much thought into it. It was never his problem to deal with. Then that made him think, well what if one day he was the man on the news with his throat ripped out? No, that couldn't happen. He heard of interesting things, like werewolves and vampires. But come on, those things don't really exist, only in fairy tales and fiction. There were people who said they witnessed those types of occurences, but they were all probably drunk or insane.

 

He sighed, breathing in the cool, clean air. It was better than the fumes he was forced to breath in the lively hours of the day, when people always had a place to be and always had to use a car. He owned a car, but he usually preferred to walk. He made it a point to move into a house that was a walking distance from any clinics, markets or parks. It was an easy life, day in and day out it was wonderful. He never had to work multiple jobs at once since his job provided him with all of the money he needed to survive in this economical world.

 

He entered his house the moment he saw the first car speed by and then another. His home was nice, owning the appealing nature that most family's homes lacked. He was comfortable with his life, it was nice and slow paced, nothing going by too fast. He did his daily chores; cleaned, showered, dressed, went to work, ate lunch, worked more, went home, ate dinner and went to bed.

 

As he was drifting to sleep, suddendly he didn't feel so safe. It wasn't a queasy feeling, but it definitely was a kind of bone chilling hair raising kind of feeling. He sensed something was with him in the room, but when he looked around he saw nothing. Was he becoming paronoid? No, that wasn't a possibility. Maybe he was just feeling the after effects of watching the gory news earlier in the afternoon. He tried to ignore the feeling, but it wouldn't go away. He began to worry that he was becoming superstitious. He tried to bury the thoughts but no matter what he did the feeling wouldn't let go. Sighing heavily, he let himself fall into a slumber even with the feeling nagging at him.

 

 

“ _You see, Dean Winchester, you are going to be made into an Guardian Angel.”_

 

Those words were going to haunt Dean for the rest of his natural life. Or well, _super_ natural now. He scoffed, shock long since faded as he looked down at his new body. It felt strange, _he_ felt strange. His body was not unlike the angels he had met so far, he was not as large, nor as threatening, but he was still, all in all, a big ass snake thing. Before he had taken this form he had been moved to a room filled with other humans such as him, dead and apparently being made into Guardian Angels also.

 

They told them to ascend into their new forms they would require training of the mental kind, or else they would be unable to handle the changes. It had taken ages (months, years, he lost count) for him to be ready, apparently he was a slow one, too stubborn to change his mind set. They soon remedied that once they realised that his personal mentor was not suited to teaching someone like him and sent Anniel in, she being able to ready him for the transformation within a few short years.

 

Anna had sent him to the dark room many times during his training, saying it would make him forget his old self, make it easier for him to change. He fought it, screaming at the inky darkness until his voice grew hoarse. He only agreed so he could get back to his brother, to help and save Sam, not some dipshit he was supposed to protect. Over time he began to forget his reasonings, the darkness ever consuming and wiping his mind, changing him, molding him into the perfect soldier.

 

After it had all been said and done, he was left alone in the same darkness he had entered their realm in and told to focus. It took him what felt like forever sitting crosslegged on the world he learned not to question for his form to begin to change. The transformation from human to the newly fledged guardian angel was excruciating, but he was told not to make a sound lest he have to restart and fuck that he was not restarting.

 

His body was tearing itself apart to fit the new power he was bestowed, his soul growing and growing and _growing_ until his body convusled and shimmered into a new being of existence, his flesh and bones and tendon giving away to fit a creature of light, a set of wings fitting themselves onto his back and shining a bright golden brown. His face stretched and stretched until it formed into two new ones, each an animal representing him, and each their eyes a green more pure than his human ones.

 

His arms grew longer and longer until he felt he would not see his hands even if he looked, his legs dissipating into his new snake-like body. Soon years had passed and his body was finished, eons of development shoved into such a small time frame weighed heavily on him and he soon blacked out, the last words he heard before once more entering the darkness pounding through his new state of mind.

 

“ _You see, Dean Winchester, you are going to be made into an Guardian Angel.”_

 

When he had awoken from his slumber he couldn't understand what was going on, how to move, what he _was_ now. Until once more those words repeated in his mind and he grew calm, his panic subsiding as he closed his eyes to the darkness and opened them to reveal the light, _his_ light. He felt strange and new, his body too large and yet too small and he wondered how he was ever going to get used to this. This power, this knowledge of the world and its inhabitants that flooded his vision every time he was to stop his focus on the present world. The incesscent noise in the back of his mind, voices of thousands upon thousands of othrs like him, formatted to be like their teachers.

 

“You'll get used to it. Everyone does eventually.” Anniel told him, she was currently in her chosen human vessel, the lack of clothes long stopped bothering him as he accepted this new state of being. He scanned his surroundings and found other newly made angels, them each with their mentor. He looked back to her, for once confused as to what he was supposed to do. He knew when he first entered this trainging area he had a mission, but the darkness and teachings wiped him of what his original purpose was. He knew once that he wanted to return to the human world, to visit a brothren lost to him ages ago. But now, all he knew was his new found being, his new sense of being _lost_. He needed orders, he needed to be told what to do next, he needed to exercise his new powers, to help him better understand his now altered existence.

 

“Hey don't look so lost, we'll be assiging you your charge soon enough, we just need to make sure you're geared and ready to go.” He tilted his heads, sure that he was ready to start his mission. “Not yet, we also need to give you a new name, one that all the angels will know you by.” He stayed silent, nodding one of his heads, Anniel seemed amused by his silence. “Can you speak first, Dean?” Dean. Who was Dean? Him? Yes, that was his name once. Anniel was looking at him expectantly and he focused back on what she tasked him to do first.

 

“Yes.” He answered simply, his mind blank and confused with what else she wanted him to say.

 

“Don't worry about that blank feeling, you'll get back to your old self soon enough, you're just getting over run with all the new feelings.” He squinted his eyes down at her, confused at what she meant. “You feel like its been nearly a thousand years, right?” He nodded slowly, still unused to his new limbs. “Its actually only been about a year since you've died. Time here moves depending on what the higher ups want, so training happens pretty quickly.” Oh, now he understood.

 

“I'll be right back, why don't you try stretching your new body a bit, and we'll give switching back into human forms a try, okay?” He nodded a little, his wings twitching at the thought of being moved. As soon as she left he stared down at his body, the strange sensations pulsing through him. He felt weird, and strange, and he realised with some embarresment if they did send him down he would be unable to use this new body.

 

He couldn't move too well and he felt weighted down in areas but he managed to unfurl his wings, aches he didn't know he had in them disappearing as they opened to their full span. As his wings arched above him, he let his arms streth to the sky, amazed at their length. He shifted his lower body around, finding it strange that moving his serpentine body around felt natural and the thought of two legs sounded foreign.

 

He excersized his wings, stretching and closing them for a while, getting used to the feel of his new limbs. Soon enough his body felt normal, natural, and he slithered (or floated he couldn't tell) around, ignoring the strange stares he got from the other new angels. He felt exhilerating, new, and powerful. His wings felt second nature as he tried to fly, failing and looking awkward but he didn't care because he felt _amazing_. He was too enraptured with moving his new body around he failed to notice Anniel watching him with amuesment dancing in her eyes.

 

“I see you're enjoying your new form?” She asked.

 

“Yes.” He breathed out, finding himself happy.

 

“Well in this form from now on, you'll be referred to as Decanus.” He tested the name in his mind, saying it a few times. It felt right, it felt nice and it fit him now. Decanus.

 

“I like it.” He said simply, not knowing what else to say.

 

“Well Decanus, can you change into your human form?” He focused on turning into a human, his faces scrunching in thought, but when he opened his eyes he was still towering over Anniel's human form. “Just focus on what you once were, imagine being human again.” He let his eyes slip shut, his mind reeling with images of his old form, so small and insignificant now. He felt his body shrink, swirling into itself until his body was once more that of Dean's.

 

He felt confused however, since the angel's he had seen spoke of needing vessels.

 

“You're using your old body, we made sure it was preserved. Often you guys can't keep a hold on new bodies or are unable to use them.” He nodded in understanding, his movements slow and clumsy. He became used to his angel body already, his human body feeling like clothes pulled too tight over himself. How would his body be able to contain him? How does he even fit? How will he fight or protect like this?

 

“Don't worry you'll get used to that feeling.” He just stared blankly, unsure of how to use this body. What motions were natural and unnatural became foreign ideas to him, lost to his newly formed mind. “Now, we're just going to brief you on your job, and who your charge is.” He tried nodding again, the motion feeling awkward and stiff. He followed her, unashamed of his undressed vessel as were the others, clothing now seeming like such a strange idea.  Why had he ever thought otherwise?

 

She told him of his duties as an guardian angel, that he was too protect and lead his charge until their time of death. However they were many subcategories of guardians, him being one meant to lead his supposed soul mate if they had yet to meet. He knew his old self would find the thought funny, but his new self was excited to meet his charge, to get to work on his duty. After his briefing he was sent to one of the many portals that lead to the human world.

 

He tilted his head, his mind focusing in on his human form and gaining an understanding on this form's limits and endurance. He felt something akin to pride knowing his vessel was healthy, though the body itself felt strange, his wings a ghost like weight settled just below the planes of his shoulder blades. With one last nod, he looked to the other guardian angels, them all looking on in anticipation as one by one they disappeared in flutters, each landing near their given charge.

 

He landed with a soft thump, his toes involuntarily curling into the fabric beneath them. Carpet, he noted dully. He looked around, noticing the home was small but seemed cozy, the owner took care of the house well, not a mess to be found. He shifted into the other dimension in which he was told he was invisible to all but the most powerful of creatures. He did not want to frighten his charge. He flew towards where the pulse he just now noticed was most strong. He was told it would be his connection to them.

 

He stared down at the figure tossing in the bed, head tilted as he observed them. So this was to be his soul mate if he lived longer, he let the smallest (stiffest) smile slip, not understanding why he found that notion amusing. A relic from the old him? He stood there for some time, stiffening slightly when his charge seemed to stare straight at him. Perhaps he knew he was there? No he could not, he merely felt srange. He was told some humans could sense the supernatural.  Perhaps his was one of them.

 

As he watched his charge sleep the words Anniel spoke to him flitted around again.

 

“ _You see, Dean Winchester, you are going to be made into an Guardian Angel.”_

 

It didn't seem so bad now.

 


	2. Agent Samuel

 The next morning, when he roused, Castiel found that the strange inkling had left him. Though he still felt something watching him, he supposed that maybe an animal had found itself a way into his home. He would deal with it later.

 

Castiel began to feel more lonely as the day wove on, feeling like he was missing something. Something....what could it be? He never really needed anything, why now? What was today? Saturday, his day off. He enjoyed the time to lounge around, eating and sleeping when he wanted to do so. Today though he felt that he needed to get something done.

 

After thoroughly thinking it through, he decided maybe he was missing something. Something living, maybe a pet. That's it, he could surely use a pet. He liked cats. There was a local pet shop a few blocks away, he could get a cat there. An animal would be a nice addition to his home, it'b be nice to bond with something.

 

He was a block from the pet shop when he noticed something across the street that caught his eye. Checking the road twice, he crossed the road and surveyed the area cautiously. The alley way wasn't dark but it didn't mean it was easy to see down it. He was about to turn around when he heard a meak mewl. He tried to find the source of the sound, and when he did he found a what looked like a pile of trash. After further inspection, he found that it was a cat.

 

It was in horrible condition, and Castiel couldn't find it in himself to just abandon it. He stripped off his coat -it would be safer than picking it up with his bare hands- and went near the starved animal. It didn't growl or hiss at him the nearer he came, when he found that it was -considerably- friendly, he scooped it up and started to head back.

 

When the poor creature was bathed -oddly he liked water-, dried and fed he decided it was time to look closer at his new pet. Before it's fur was matted and dirty, now it had a more glossy appearance. It had a nice color too, a kind of sandy blonde. His eyes were a sparkling green, a rare eye color for cats. He scratched behind its ears and on his flanks, the cat began to purr almost immediately. He smiled, he had company now. It was nice.

 

 

Dean followed his charge throughout his day, noticing the man preferred to spend his days off sleeping and lazing about. Hm, he expected different. But then again he remembered little of his time as a human now so who was he to judge the actions of others? Perhaps he had been just as lazy when he had nothing to do, perhaps he was a slob. Messy. But one look down at his human form proved him wrong. His vessel was fit, so he must have done something strenuous daily to keep him healthy.

 

Dean watched as the man left the house, following at an easy distance. Walking was still strange to him, his feet were clumsy and he wanted nothing more than to change back into his angel form, but that would be disasterous, the human realm unsuited to hiding such a thing. The human world, he began to realise, was unsuited for many things. His charge stopped at an alley way, peering down with squinted eyes. Dean tilted his head, figuring he was unable to see into the darkness unlike he was.

 

The man walked slowly in, as if worried of danger lurking about. Dean stanced himself, prepaing to protect him if needed. No danger would come to him with him around, it was his duty, his mission and he'll be damned if he was to fail. His charge dug around in the garbage near him for a bit, searching for something and Dean felt slightly repulsed. He apparently found what he was looking for and back away, a small bundle wrapped in his jacket. A cat.

 

Dean moved out of his way, finding himself disliking the feeling of people shifting through him. He followed him back home, wondering idly what he wanted with the pitiful creature. They arrived and Dean watched him as he cleaned the cat, feeding it as he dried the matted fur, brushing through it to make it smooth once more. He noted dully that he did a nice job of cleaning the cat up, it appearing more like a pet than a rabid animal, despite its starved status. That would take time to fix.

 

Dean waited for the human to exit, presumably to the kitchen before he went closer to inspect the feline. He put a hand to its flank and watched the cat jump, its large green eyes turning to the point where he brushed. So animals can feel him. He pushed his hands further, one holding the animal quiet while he investigated inside. He pulled away and calmed the cat with the same trick Anniel had done to him.

 

The cat had a disease inside its bones, which would kill it in a few short months. To him only a blink of an eye, but to his charge it would be long enough for him to grow attatched, and if he was meant to protect and serve him, then he wouldn't allow damage. Neither the physical nor mental kind. Making sure sure he had enough time he neared the animal once more, pressing to fingers to its forhead and forcing some of his new found grace into its body, repairing the internal damage.

 

He backed off the animal the moment he heard the man re-entering the room, waiting in the corner as usual for him to be called to action. He couldn't help but feel unused, like he was missing something as he watched the human play with the animal. Almost as if he was forgetting soemthing but he shrugged it away, Anniel had told him he would be feeling weird for some time. Even if the nagging feeling was pounding at his concious mind, screaming at him and begging to be released.

 

 

Castiel went up to his pet, he could see its bones. Not too comforting. He was sitting himself down on the couch when he heard the animal let out a low gutteral growl. He looked at the animal, than surveyed the area. Nothing in sight that would make an animal uneasy, yet the cat's hair was standing up, giving him a larger appearance. He tried to calm the animal, he stroked it and tried to feed him but his efforts were in vain.

 

Sighing, he picked up the animal and carried him to a bed he had prepared for him in the kitchen. It was placed near his food and water bowl for convienence. He noticed that when he left the kitchen his growling had ceased. Strange. Did the cat dislike him? That'd be rather unfortunate. After he returned he picked up and placed the cat in the bundle of towels and blankets. It immediately jumped off of the bed and firmly placed itself by his side and stared at the air. There wasn't anything there, what was he looking at? He shrugged his shoulders and knelt by his pet.

 

“You need a name.” He told him plainly. He thought about some, but none of them seemed to fit. There was plenty to choose from. He began to look around, trying to think of something.

“How about Rust, your fur has a sort of rusty appeal.” He didn't know whether or not the the cat approved, but he kept with it.

 

“So Rust it is.” He said before walking to his bedroom.

 

He began to feel like something was always _there_ , but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the feeling, maybe then he could pinpoint it. He skimmed over all possibilities, but it was to no avail. There was no explanation for why he felt he was being watched.

 

It was still early in the day and he figured he could use something to eat. After searching his cabinets, he found he had no appetite. He prepared some coffee and drank it slowly while sitting on his couch. He searched the channels, nothing good seemed to be on TV. Other than horror stories and murder of course.

 

He felt something rub up against his leg and he froze for a moment before realizing that it was just Rust. He chuckled and rubbed its head. The cat hopped onto the couch and settled itself on his lap, purring as he scratched under his chin. For a moment Rust paused his purring and squinted his eyes while looking around as if in search for something. Castiel found the cats behavior odd and it made him feel a bit worried. Maybe rodents had found a way into his home and were infesting the walls, tearing away at the interior. This made him feel uneasy.

 

He wanted to get up, but he felt that he shouldn't disturb Rust. He seemed to be in pure bliss, his eyes were closed as he turned his head this way and that trying to find which spot he liked scratched the best. Castiel closed his eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep.

 

When he awoke he found that Rust hadn't moved from his lap and wasn't asleep either. He seemed to be gaurding him. That was a funny thought. He smiled at that; a cat guarding a human. He continued to pet the animal while thinking about his work. Not much time had passed since he fell asleep, maybe an hour or two. He picked up the animal from his lap and placed him on the floor before standing up and stretching his aching body. He hated sleeping in an upright position, it always made him sore when he awoke. After doing a few basic stretches he yawned and went to get a glass of water.

 

Castiel was walked into the kitchen when he saw something strange. He almost swore he saw a shadow. No, it was just his imagination. He was going to the sink when he felt something wet under his foot, but before he could do anything he slammed into the ground.

 

He opened his eyes and found that he had hit his head on the tiled floor pretty hard due to the welt on the back of his head. When he stood up he winced. He had a pulsating head ache, grabbing an ice pack he went to lay on the couch, feeling suddenly lethargic and falling asleep abrutbly.

 

When he had woken up from his nap, he found that the painful ache was gone. Same with the bump on his head. That wasn't right... he swore he felt a lump on his head earlier. Maybe there wasn't one to begin with, his memory wasn't always perfect. Dismissing the strange occurance, he ate lunch and fed Rust. His mind wandered back to the shadow he saw. Maybe it wasn't just a shadow. No, it had to be some strange lighting or something.

 

 

Dean felt a small amount of amusement when his charge fell asleep on the couch, his pet (Rust, he reminded himself) sitting upon his lap and glaring in his general direction. He tested how well the animal could see him, moving his arms (stiffly) around and felt an almost grin reach his face when the cat growled at them, following them with his eyes. He neared the cat, ready to test his ability to understand and speak the language of creatures. He felt strangely empty and needed a distraction while his human slept.

 

The cat's fur stood on end and its pupils narrowed into slits, a low growl coming from it.

 

“Do you understand me?” He asked, human tongue fumbling as he spoke quietly, voice rough as it tried to trnasmit his now angelic voice into that of a humans. Rust's eyes widened as it nearly jumped away, fear and confusion rolling off it.

 

“ _Yes_.” It answered, the voice more or less appearing in Dean's mind instead of out loud. Dean cocked his head to the side, wondering what else he should say to the feline.

 

“Do you know what I am?” He asked next, his eyes sparking vibrant green as small electrical currents flew up his arm and forming into large wings just behind him. It felt nice to do that, to let his true self dance around his human shell. The cat shrunk into it self, watching its paws.

 

“ _You are a being from above, unlike the one I am on_.” Rust spoke softly, fear and respect resident in his voice. Dean liked that, hearing the awe coming from the cat. He felt closer to felines, one of his own angel heads being that of a tiger.

 

“Do you understand why I am here?” The cat's tail twitched at that, his ears flattening.

 

“ _Are you here to take away this man_?” Rust said slowly, his voice small and pitiful.

 

“I am here to watch him.” The cat looked back up at him, eyes confused. “You owe me thanks, if not for me you would be dying soon.” The cat cocked its head, unsure of Dean's meaning. “You had a cancer growing inside you, I wiped you clean of it.” Rust quickly bowed his head, paws curling slightly.

 

“ _I... I thank you. I did not expect to survive the pains I felt for ages_.”

 

“And you would not have. Now you are to stop alerting the human, lest he begins to suspect my presence.” Rust murmered his agreement and went back to staring down at the man's lap, licking his paws every so often. Dean found this satisfactury, flying to the kitchen to look around and learn more about the lay out. He turned around when he heard movement, finding his charge entering slowly in search of something.

 

The man seemed to startle, as if he saw Dean standing in his kitchen before yelping, slipping on some water spilt ealier and bumping his head aginst the counter and floor. Dean was about to rush forward before the human stood up and groaned, grappling at his head before sharply intaking some breathe, his hand brushing against a bump. He lightly rubbed the bump before applying an ice pack and making his way back to the couch, slumping into it and groaning.

 

Dean was going to heal the bump but found he could not while he was awake. Waiting for him to settle down on the couch before brushing two fingers to his head, making the man fall asleep while simultaneously healing him all at once.

 

He waited the hour it took for him to wake back up confused at the fact he was missing the large bruise he had fallen asleep with. The cat gave him a grateful meow before bounding away to eat, the human watching him go with a confused glance.

 

 

A few days later, Castiel was still confused about the incident with the bump but decided it was best to not put thought into it.

 

The week had already started off terribly, strange things were happening all around him. His neighbor, Lary, had an unfortunate accident with a bear in the woods. They said his heart had been torn out of his chest. Castiel wasn't entirely convinced that that had been the case, but hey, he wasn't the detective here. It made him sad, Lary was a good friend of his. Sort of. They conversed sometimes at stores or at the park. Either way, losing a neighbor was never a thing you just got over.

 

Rust had also stopped his yowling at nothing, which was a relief because that meant that whatever had found its way into his house was gone. He had also gotten fatter, now having the healthy flap his stomach should have. He was happy that he could save his life and not have it spend the last of his days in an abandoned alley way with maggots crawling all over his fur.

 

Also, he was beginning to see the shadow in more places. Though he knew it was nothing more than his mind playing tricks, he couldn't help but let his mind wonder. A ghost, maybe? A poltergiest? He didn't believe such things of course. They were only fiction. Why waste precious thoughts and time on things that don't even exist?

 

After work, which was -for some odd reason- exhausting he found himself too tired to do anything. He just sat down -watched the gory news- and did absolutly nothing. He actually felt kind of sick. _Oh_ , he thought, _I caught a cold._ Luckily, Castiel had a strong immune system and barely took a day to heal from any sickness. He could make a home made remedy that cured any common cold.

 

In a while he realized that he was indeed sick and took his temperature, a rearing 100 degrees. He headed to the kitchen and whipped up a batch of home made gingerale and gulped it down. He felt better already. Well, kind of. He still felt like crap.

 

When he awoke from a well earned nap, he found that he was back to a normal temperature. He should really share that recipe. Yawning, he filed away some paperwork and checked his E-Mail. No important messages. In about three hours he was finished with all his work and felt energized. Finishing work usually did that to him. He decided he needed to do something physical.

 

After checking on Rust he went for a quick jog around the neighborhood. Today had a sort of gloomy feel to it, maybe due to Lary's recent death. As he was reaching his house he stopped at Lary's yard. His home still had the happy welcoming feel it always had, but it also had a disturbing appeal to it. He noticed something strange on the grass, what looked like blood. He squinted his eyes and looked closer. It was blood. How did blood get there? He felt disturbed and quickly walked back to his house. His house didn't feel welcoming. Castiel disregarded it and walked inside. Once inside he felt normal again, he felt safe.

 

A week later, another death had occurred. A woman a few houses away had an incident that resembled Lary's. Heart torn from her rib cage (what kind of sicko would rip peoples hearts out?). Castiel hadn't known her, but felt a great loss from having to have lost yet another neighbor. Strangely, a day later an FBI agent came to his house. He went by 'Sam Wesson' and asked him strange questions. When the man finally left Castiel felt anxious, but he didn't know why. Why would the FBI be interested in some towns wacky deaths?

 

 

Dean was feeling on edge. His mind was feeling strange and he felt... he didn't know what he felt. Firstly, people all over his charge's neighborhood have been dropping dead, hearts ripped out. Secondly, he felt as if he should kill the creature who had done it. Werewolf. He could sense its presence and would have known the moment he closed his eyes and breathed, feeling the area around him. At the same time he felt blocked, like something was telling him it wasn't his problem. That his job was just to watch his human, to keep them safe.

 

But with each person dropping dead he wondered if what his mind was telling him to do was correct. What's worse is he's been standing at the door to his charge's house, stock still. Nothing Rust told him made him move, or react. That man, Sam Wesson, who was just here, made everything he thought he knew screech to a halt. Something about him... _Pulled_ to him. On such a deep level he felt as if it was touching the last part of his grace that was once human.

 

His mind reeled, Sam Wesson, was connected to his human self. He was sure of it, no, he _knew_ it. His charge had no idea who the man was, answering his strange questions slowly. Dean skimmed his mind and found that he found this Sam insane, or weird for investigating such things. Dean scoffed at that, these deaths were far from normal, and needed someone who knew about these things. It needed hunters.

 

Hunters.

 

Hunters?

 

Where did that come from? He searched his consious mind, wondering how he came to that conclusion. He felt like screaming, he felt unsure of himself, and he felt like he needed answers. But why? Why wasn't he okay with just fulfilling his duty? Why couldn't he let this Sam Wesson slide from him and just continue following his charge, protecting and making sure he lives out his life? Why did his head pulse? His mind scream? Why did he feel as if he was missing something big? Something so monumentally important to his old self that it was like he was missing a chunk of himself?

 

He needed assurance, he needed knowledge. He needed someone to tell him it was just nothing, that he was just feeling a fluke. Nothing more. That it was just some after effects from his body transforming. But that was a month ago and he long since lost that empty feeling, it disappearing the moment he began to follow his human around. So what was this? Some memory long since faded, resurfacing? He shut his human eyes, opening his angelic ones as he scowered the town, searching each soul until he landed on this Sam Wesson. Looking back at his charge, making sure he was safe, he flew to the man's location, prepared to follow him until his answer was found.

 

He landed in a motel room, small, one bed, and with mold breaking through some of the walls cracks. He searched the room until his gaze landed on that of a man sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, elbows on knees, and hair falling like a curtain around his face. He felt like he was choking on something, like the sight of this Sam in despair pained him. Tore at him deeper than any weapon could. He neared him, green electricity dancing around his arms and his eyes glowing, his power cracking as was his control.

 

Something about this man made him hurt, made him angry, made him feel... Regret? He cocked his head, noticing just now the man was holding something in one of his hands. He peered closer, taking no notice of his power now running wild, breaking the lights and shattering the mirrors. Sam leaned back, eyes wide as he watched his room blow apart. Dean, without his knowledge, slipped into the dimension, face cracking with neon green lights and eyes glowing vibrant.

 

The object held close fell to the floor, with a small whisper from the man's lips.

 

“ _Dean_?”

 

Dean looked down at the human, the word peircing him and driving him to look down at the floor. The object, was a small faded photo. Of himself. Sam reached one wary hand outwards him and he jumped backwards, unsure of the raging war of emotions his mind was facing.

 

“ _Dean_?” The man repeated once more, and Dean could only stare with glowing eyes, the room around them shaking and shuttering with the force of Dean's form breaking through the human shell. He didn't notice the man standing, begining to near him. He didn't hear anything else he said. All he could hear was his mind screaming at him to remember something. To realise something.

 

This man. He was... He was his... His brother. His _brother_. His sole reason for becoming an angel. The only reason he underwent the training. He... he forgot. No, he was _forced_ to forget. By Anniel. By Teriel, by all the angels in heaven. They made him forget his original purpose to complete their own purpose. He was enraged. No. More than that. He was _pissed_.

 

Before he could break down any further he felt something tug at him. His mind was hazy, Sam only standing a few feet away from him. He looked up at his brother, cocked his head as he listened to the tugging that was somehow louder than the roar of emotions. Sam was just about to touch him, just about to grab his shoulder when he was pulled from the mortal world, opening his eyes to see not Sam in front of him, but Anniel.

 

He was about to explode, about to scream and tear and kill until someone understood his anger. He wanted death, he wanted murder, he wanted revenge. His little brother, his family was left alone for a year without him. A fucking _year_ and he didn't know. He was enraged. He tore from his human form, his angel form growing somehow larger as did his rage. He was reaching down, ready to grip Anniel's human form and rip her apart. Keep tearing until he reached her grace.

 

“Oh Decanus...” Was all she whispered as he began to reach for her.

 

In a moment, right before his clawed hands grazed the surface of Anniel's human form he was in the dark room again. The blackness compressing his angel form until he was reverted to a ball of grace, then further until he was once more encompassed by his human form. He felt pressed and weighed in all areas, he felt as if his body was being too squished, and all he could do was scream, and scream, and _scream_ until even his angelic voice was hoarse.

 

He screamed to be let out. He screamed for answers. He screamed for Sam. He screamed to be returned. He screamed for years, and years, until hundreds passed. His voice reduced to nothing but a cracked whimper. He gave up on crying fifty years ago, gave up on begging thirty, and went completely silent by ten. He was given no instruction, just the compression and darkness and silence. Just the inky, swirling mass that composed the room.

 

A century passed and he felt numb, he felt _new_. He no longer remembered why he was sentenced to this torture. All he knew was that he did wrong and he had to be punished. That he went out of line and needed to understand his place once more. Five decades passed and when he opened his eyes once more, he was back in front of Anniel. Her eyes soft as she gazed down at him. He hadn't the energy to fix his mangled human form, all he could do was lie there and cry in releif that he was let _out_ , and he no longer had to endure the pressure they forced upon him.

 

“Are you ready to return Decanus?” Anniel spoke, her voice soft but demanding. He whimpered yes, anything but that room, just return him back to his duty, to his charge.

 

“I will return you to your charge Decanus, and you are to only stay by his side. Do not stray and do not wander. If you are to leave him, for any reason but to save him, you will be punished.”

 

“Yes.” He spoke, and that couldn't be him, but it was. That pitiful, small, cracked voice was his. She seemed satisfied with his answer and he closed his eyes in joy, in pure utter _joy_ that she was pleased. He reopened them to find Rust, his charge's pet, looking at him with wide eyes.

 

“ _What happened to you_?” The cat asked him, and Decanus could only stare down at him numbly. The cat yowled at him, but he said nothing, only flew to his human's location and stood there, watching him, waiting to serve and protect. He looked idly at the calender hung up on the wall. He had been missing for a week. He didn't have the energy to wonder if any new humans were killed while he was gone. He could only focus on the human in front of him.

 

_“You see, Decanus, you are going to be made into an Guardian Angel.”_

 

These words did nothing to soothe him. They did not comfort him. They only reminded him of his duty, reminded him that he was to guard this man until his time came, reminded him that that was all he was. Nothing more than grace shoved into a body and told to protect. He was never anything else but such a form. Nothing more.


	3. Naked angel, in his living room; its official, he's insane

 Castiel was going through his day normally, went to work and did all of his daily chores. He fed Rust, pet him and cherished him. He ate dinner and he watched the news. He felt that something was missing. Something more than a pet, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. He ignored it like usual and filled his days with friends and family.

 

He was walking home from the market as it was getting dark, wondering if he had forgotten to set out food for Rust. Suddenly, he noticed something from the corner of his eye and halted in his steps. He felt his heart race and swallowed a lump in his throat. He tensed and kept moving. _Probably just a stray,_ he thought. But after a few more steps, he would realize that he was very wrong.

 

It all happened so fast. He felt himself drop his groceries and be shoved into the cold concrete by something.... _big._ He tried to fight the creature off of himself but he found that it had strength he couldn't even dream of having and that no matter how much he struggled it did absolutely nothing to help his situation. He was crying out for help but no one would come to him. He felt claws begin to tear into his flesh and he shrieked at the pain that was so sudden and so immense. Then, out of the blue he saw a flash of blinding light and he couldn't hear himself scream.

 

 

Decanus was following his charge, when he felt something in the air spike. A warning. He looked around, his eyes not catching anything out of the norm. He closed his human eyes to open his angel ones, scanning the environment until he felt the presence of a supernatural being. _The werewolf_. His mind supplied. He was busy discerning its where abouts in the area when he heard a shrill scream. He opened his human eyes to find his human pressed against the wall, the werewolf tearing at his flesh.

 

He never felt more angrier than he did right now. He watched for only a second, sick amusement dancing in his mind as he imagined all the different ways he could kill this being that _dared_ to touch his charge. To lay one single clawed hand on him. With a roar he tore into the dimension they were in, electricity dancing around him, his eyes gleaming, and shadows of his wings flashing with each bright light that passed him. The werewolf jumped away in fear, cowering as the streetlights around them shattered with the force of Decanus's power.

 

“ _You will regret touching him_.” Decanus heard himself say, his voice thrumming with his grace and practically shaking the walls around them. The supernatural creature cowered, terror shown clearly as Decanus pulled his angel blade out of thin air, the metal weighing nicely in his grip. He neared him slowly, wanting the creature to only know fear and regret in its final moments. It whimpered and begged for mercy, but all he gave it was a grin, slashing in a downwards arc, splitting its skull as his blade pierced its flesh.

 

He looked upwards at the sky, pleasure rippling through him as he protected his charge, made sure he was kept safe and away from harm. He looked back down, only to find his human cowered in the corner, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. He cocked his head, wondering why he was scared. He had just saved him, he should be grateful. Perhaps he fears he will be the next one to face Decanus's blade?

 

He didn't want his charge scared of him.

 

“Do not fear. I am your guardian, Decanus.” He spoke, making sure his voice was at an octave that wouldn't harm his ears.

 

 

Castiel had no idea what was going on. His mind was racing so fast it was difficult to decipher much of _anything_ that was going on.

 

_Light.....blinding light....blood, blood everywhere...._

 

He felt himself bleed but he couldn't feel any pain, he was in too much shock to feel it. All he knew was that he wasn't being torn into. His breathing was rapid and he cowered into the nearest corner and gripped his shoulders in attempt to stop the bleeding. He stared wide eyed at the person standing in front of him. He was staring down at him with eyes that held no emotion, holding a blade dripping with fresh blood. The man tilted his head and blinked. Castiel wanted to disappear. He shrinked back and pressed himself up against the wall.

 

This wasn't a man. It couldn't have been a man. The glazed look in his eyes, the way he seemed to ripple with power..... _it just wasn't human._

 

Castiel felt as if what he heard had the power to burst ear drums. Its voice seemed like a weight upon his entire being. “ _Do not fear. I am your guardian, Decanus.”_

 

Castiel tried to speak but he found his mouth was dry and that he couldn't manifest any sound. As he felt himself ease out of shock, he began to feel the sharp pain from the fresh wounds. He moved his hands towards his face and saw that they were soaked in blood. _His blood._ He was bleeding heavily. He wanted to know more about this _Decanus_ , but he felt himself become weary. His eyes fluttered shut and he no longer saw the man.

 

 

Decanus watched with blank eyes as his charge fell to the floor after witnessing his own blood flow. He cocked his head, wondering how that was a reason to faint. Perhaps he had never been wounded before. Looking down at the dead body with disgust he ripped his blade from its head, cleaning the silver metal on the clothes of the fallen creature before walking towards the fainted human. He sheathed the weapon before scooping the human in his arms, looking to the sky as he flew back to the house.

 

Rust jumped up into the air, terrified at the sudden appearance of Decanus and his owner. He jumped off the bed and neared them with worried eyes, wondering why his master was bleeding. Decanus ignored his pleas to know what happened and set his charge on the bed, smoothing his hands over the wounds and filling them with his grace as he went, the flesh knitting shut at his demand. He felt claws digging into his leg and looked down to find Rust glaring up at him.

 

“ _What happened!_ ” The cat demanded, jumping on the bed and nuzzling its head into his owners, licking his cheek before settling on his chest.

 

“He was attacked, I protected him.” Decanus answered, watching the fall and rise of the humans chest.

 

“ _Oh... Thank you..._ ” The cat muttered, his tail twitching nervously.

 

Decanus stood at the side of the bed, arrow straight while waiting for the human to wake up once more.

 

 

Castiel woke up and looked around slowly. How did he get here? Wasn't he just bleeding out in an alley? He felt the furry warmth of Rust against his body and found comfort in it, the vibrations of his purring lulling him. He then remembered that he was bleeding earlier. Frantically he checked his chest and shoulders. No blood. That was a bit confusing. Had it been a dream? Was it even possible to feel that kind of pain in a dream? Well, at least he thought it was a dream until he looked up.

 

There, standing in front of his bed was a man. The one in the alley way with the blank slated eyes and the bloody knife. But that wasn't the worst of it. _He was naked._ And he didn't seem at all embarrassed or... even noticed that he was nude. He groaned and covered his head with a nearby pillow. _It had to be a dream, maybe he was still dreaming._ He smothered his face and tried to wake up, but it was to no avail. This was either a weird hallucination or some twisted reality. Maybe he was going insane.

 

When he removed the pillow from his face he saw that no one stood at the front of his bed. No naked man or creature was watching him. He sighed, relieved that it was just his mind. Then he turned his head. He nearly jumped up out of surprise. The man was sitting at the side of the bed. Hadn't he just been at the front of the bed? Castiel pulled Rust closer to him and was slowly getting up from the bed and walking back to the door when he heard Decanus say something. That didn't stop him from leaving the bedroom and bolting to the front door.

 

He was almost at the door when he looked back and when he returned his sights to the door he skidded to a halt. There was Decanus, blocking the door. Castiels breath hitched and he realized there was no way he was going to escape. Was this how he was going to die? Murdered by some supernatural naked man in his living room?

 

 

Decanus watched with little amusement as his charge bolted from the room, clinging Rust to his chest as he went. He cocked his head, flying to the door where the other presumably ran. What had caused him to run? Did he find him terrifying? Decanus looked down at his form while the human was checking behind himself, not quite yet noticing Decanus was waiting right there for him. He was not as scary as he could be in his human form, knowing that his actual form would be too impressive for the human to comprehend.

 

He figured he was much more terrifying then.

 

The human turned and skidded to a halt just a few feet shy from Decanus, eyes wide and breathing erratic. Decanus surveyed his thoughts and what he found made him attempt the human expression that conveyed confusion. He felt he failed miserably but an attempt was made and he guessed that was all that mattered to humans. Why would the human be so caught up on the fact he was in the nude? Did not all humans prefer it that way? Though the people he has met so far have all covered their bodies as if it was something to be ashamed of.

 

Perhaps he was wrong, still, he felt no embarrassment at his naked form, standing tall and proud as he stared down at his charge. Still, he should do something about the humans fear of him, and putting a sleeping spell on him will do nothing to make him seem more trustworthy.

 

“As I stated before, I am your guardian, an angel of the lord.” He left out the 'newly made angel' part, not wanting him to think he had an inexperienced protector. He may be inexperienced in the way of his angelic power, but by no means was he to be taken as unable to fight. He was powerful and he was not being cocky to assume he could take down most creatures he came across. “I am Decanus, and as the rules state, I am unable to know your name until you tell me yourself.” He should get this out of the way, it was getting hard to refer to his charge as 'human' or 'person' forever.

 

 

Castiel stood with his mouth gaping as the man explained that he was an 'angel of the lord' and his 'guardian'. He had requested his name and he still couldn't forage any words. This man – Decanus- couldn't be an angel of the lord. I mean, he was religious and all, but come on, an _angel?_ It all sounded a bit fabricated.

 

He barely managed to stutter the words, “C-Castiel.”

 

He could see Decanus's confusion. He was named after an angel and he was not whatsoever a powerful supernatural being that served the lord. He swallowed the lump in his throat and heard Rust growl. He tried to slow down his breathing but in his current situation, that was a bit hard to do.

 

Castiel was looking around, trying to find a quick escape route. If he could just get to the kitchen...

 

 

Decanus cocked his head. That was a strange name for a human to have.

 

“Castiel?” He said, testing the name. “Your name means Cas of god?” Decanus questioned. He would not refer to Castiel as if he was an angel, feeling as if he would be degrading the other angels. Strange words floated to the top of his mind, ones he seemed to hear ages ago. _We are not creatures and if you are to ever to refer to us as such I will not be responsible for what will happen to you_ Decanus wondered for a moment where he heard those, but as his mind wandered he felt something akin to 'red alert' flashing and stopped focusing on those thoughts. Strange.

 

When he refocused on the realm he noticed Castiel had bolted into the kitchen, Rust staring up at him with confusion.

 

“ _I don't think he takes meeting you too kindly_.” Rust said, tail twitching with nervous energy. Decanus managed to scoff, the sound awkward and not fitting correctly as it left his mouth.

 

“I do not think he is and what?” He looked over and saw Castiel charging him with a knife, a battle cry leaving the humans mouth as he plunged the knife deep into Decanus's chest. Decanus stared down at him, confusion evident in his eyes. Castiel looked up at Decanus and the angel took the moment to skim the top of his thoughts, letting an awkward little laugh leave him when the human thought that he won, that he took down him. He pushed Castiel away easily with one hand, using the other to pull the knife out and drop it to the floor, momentarily healing the bleeding wound.

 

“I think that was a bit excessive.” He noted, Rust cowered in the corner of the room, obviously frightened from all the blood he has had to witness today.

 

 

 

Castiel took advantage of Decanus's distraction and rushed to the kitchen. He grabbed the first knife he saw and ran out of the kitchen, hollering his arrival as he drove the knife into the mans ribcage. He realized that the man should have dropped dead by now... _Oh._ He was easily pushed away and watched in horror as the man -who was now certainly _not_ human- pull the knife out with ease and press his hand over the bloody wound, causing it to vanish.

 

He backed up, knowing now that the angel was probably sick of him and was going to finish him off right at the spot. He was silently saying his last words and stood as still as stone as Decanus walked up to him. Well, he lived a good long life. Dying at twenty seven wasn't _that_ bad, right?

 

Either way, the thought of death terrified him. He now wanted to run away but found himself frozen in fear. He didn't swallow, blink or move the slightest bit. Castiel finally found the courage to take a step back, but didn't take any more. Decanus was now but inches from his face and well, _if looks could kill..._

 

 

Decanus neared Castiel, hearing the man whispering words. Ones that begged for him to have a nice after life, and that his life couldn't be that bad, and that he hoped his soul would return to heave once he perished. Decanus cocked his head, leering inches from Castiel's face as he inspected him. He wondered how the man could still be so terrified of him, he was an angel, he was not a monster. He would not harm him. Besides, did he not explicitly state that he was his assigned guardian? Perhaps the man did not understand what he had meant. Some humans were not the smartest after all.

 

“Why are you still afraid? I have stated I am not here to harm you, and that I am here to serve and protect you. I am your guardian.” He said once more, hoping his point would come across. Alas, Castiel still seemed unconvinced, fear emitting off him in waves. He furrowed his brow and waved a hand over at Rust, the cat warily perking to attention before cautiously making his way over. “Perhaps you will believe Rust's words over mine.”

 

With that he picked the cat up, pressing his palm to its flank, his other hand pressing two fingers to Castiel's temple.

 

“Speak Rust.” Decanus commanded. Rust was convinced but looked up at his owner, not sure if it would work but Decanus was a being from above and had power he did not understand.

 

“ _He is what he says master. He comes from above, where the creatures of light live_.” He said slowly, unsure of whether or not Castiel actually heard him.

 

 

Castiel jumped back. What the _hell?_ Did Decanus just make Rust _communicate with him?_

 

He whispered, “No, _no_...This _can't_ be real. _Cats don't talk and_....and angels dont exist. Come on Castiel... _wake up_! You _must_ be dreaming!” He seemed to be arguing with himself as he turned away from Decanus and Rust.

 

He must have gone crazy when he started to see that shadow. Maybe he should just send himself to a Mental Institute so he can be put in a straight jacket and stuffed into a pillowed room for the rest of his natural life. _Yeah, I have a guardian angel AND a talking cat!_ He bit his lip and put his head in his hands, expecting to turn around and see that Decanus did, in fact, not exist. Sadly, when he finally swiveled around he was still standing there with a puzzled look on his face.

 

The idea of being insane actually sounded much more pleasant than having to be stuck with a nude 'guardian' angel.

 

 

Castiel jumped away from Decanus, seemingly shocked that he spoke with his cat. Decanus scrunched his brow again, wondering what else he could do to make Castiel see the truth in his words. Perhaps having him speak to an animal was not the right choice, considering many humans found animals incompetent and unintelligent. He found that odd, Anniel in his time of training saying she once had a grand friendship with a wolf many years ago.

 

Castiel was looking anywhere but him and Decanus assumed it was because of his nudity, once more finding the notion of his charge finding it embarrassing amusing. All the other angels roamed heaven nude when in human form, and he found himself no different from then, so why cover himself? He scoffed at the very idea of it. Feeling slightly proud as he got better at the human motion. He felt he shouldn't but if he was to be following Castiel around he found it best for him to assimilate as well as he should to human life for now.

 

He entered Castiel's thoughts to find the man thinking himself insane for thinking there was an angel and a talking cat in his living room. Decanus straightened his spine while letting the cat go, wondering what he should do next.

 

“Whether you believe it or not I am your guardian and will be following you everywhere you go from now on, you will be safest that way.”

 

 

Castiel was still taking this all in. Okay, naked _angel_ in his room, his cat can speak english and he may or may not be crazy. So far the most exciting day of his life. He was trying not to mentally freak out. Maybe he should just ask some simple questions to get started.

 

He took a deep breath and calmed himself, trying to compose a proper question, “Okay, so um, you're _my_ guardian angel. Why are you my guardian angel, exactly?” Castiel hoped that he didn't sound too rude.

 

 

Decanus watched as Castiel took a deap breath, noticing that with that motion the human calmed down. Hm, he filed that away for later usage. He will never know if the human trick for calming down would come in handy. When Castiel spoke Decanus felt glad, the human seemed to be coming around to the idea of him being his guardian angel. His asking may not have been the greatest question, but Decanus figured it was a start to the life long servitude he would start soon enough.

 

Decanus leaned just the fraction away from Castiel, not caring much for personal space. Why was he assigned Castiel? How could he not know? Was he told? Decanus did not know and felt perturbed, how was he supposed to explain to him that he himself didn't _exactly_ remember why. Perhaps he should ask Anniel. She would know.

 

“One moment.” He said to his charge, looking to the sky before disappearing.

 

“Anniel, I require your assistance.” He spoke to the sky, looking forward once he heard the flutter of wings and Anniel once more in her human form. Strange, did she not want to roam in her angel form? He thought every angel prided themselves in their grace, their gifted form from their Father. He took the moment he had in heaven to stretch out of the human shell he rode. That reminded him, he should figure more out about this vessel he has. What time period was he born? When did he request to this human for his body? Endless questions.

 

But questions brought the dark room and the dark room brought terror and confusion. He still doesn't quite remember what was previous to his last time there.

 

“Decanus, what do you need?” Her human voice spoke, her amber eyes gazing upwards at his angelic form. He gazed down steadily into her eyes, finding no reason for the strange want to cower from her. She had not been the one to send him into the dark room, he was sent there for disobedience. He found his mind a strange place now that if he were to wander any further he would be hitting a brick wall. He wondered why but at the same time felt if he was too, it would not end well for him.

 

“I seem to have forgotten my purpose for being assigned Castiel. My charge.” He added for clarity, just in case Anniel found his name odd also and mistook him for talking about a fellow angel. Anniel pursed her lips for a second, her arms crossing over he chest as she appeared to be in thought. Decanus once more found her human motions strange, but she was older and wiser than he, knowing more about humans. He had no right to question her comfortability in the human form.

 

“You were assigned him at random, as all other guardians are.” She looked up at him for measure and he nodded one of his heads in agreement. Anniel bid goodbyes before disappearing to wherever she spent her time. Decanus returned to his human's side.

 

“I was assigned you at random.”

 

 

Castiel was still frozen as Decanus leaned in with but the smallest space separating them. He gulped as he watched him looked towards the roof and....and just vanished. It was merely for a moment though. He was back in front of him with dead eyes....no, they weren't dead. Just not alive. Castiel felt a spark when he gazed into his eyes, like some sort of connection.

 

“Uh, personal space. Please.” He stammered.

 

Decanus took a small step back but still seemed the utter most confused with him. Did angels not know of _personal space_ or something? Probably not. Angels most likely don't feel affection like humans do. Hm, that was a thought. If angels _did_ feel, or have souls at that, did they have soul mates? Soul mates were a common human perception, usually in religion. Making people believe that there was always someone out there for them. Even Castiel didn't believe in such tales. Though, it did sound nice.

 

Castiel was still trying to make sense of his current situation. Okay, if this guy was going to be following him around, he would at least have to be dressed.

 

“Um, okay. If you're going to be watching my every move, could you at least put on some... clothes or something?” He asked. He hoped that Decanus would know how to dress himself, because he was _not_ going to be dressing him himself.

 

 

Decanus stepped back from Castiel, but was confused as to why. What was the point of moving away? Was he uncomfortable with something? He would never know. Once more he found humans strange, and wondered how he was supposed to follow Castiel around without arousing suspicion. Anniel would certainly be good at this job, but she had other jobs. He did not know but he assumed they were far more important than his, which was guarding a human until their time of death. Hm, a strange job assigned to an angel. He wouldn't ask however, it was not his place.

 

Castiel eyed him up and down and Decanus waited for his charge to become calm once more, the human trying to find himself admist the strange situation he found himself in. Decanus assumed it would be weird for him, he knew not many humans ever came face to face with their own angel. But he was young and knew little of humans, so who was he to guess? Castiel requested him to dress and he cocked his head, finding the point of dressing moot.

 

“To what will me covering my form accomplish?”

 

 

Castiel held back a face of digust. _What would it accomplish_? He thought, _Maybe a bit of, I don't know, normanality!?_ He was practically screaming in his head.

 

He took another deep breath, attempting to at least seem calm. “Okay, we _humans_ , like to cover ourselves because society says we have to. And if you go marching around town in the _nude_ you have a pretty big chance of getting _thrown in jail_! So, I'll grab you a shirt and pants and you can use your _extensive knowledge_ to figure out how to put them on.” His voice sounded more scornful than he liked, but could you blame him?

 

He left the room, directing Decanus to stay put while grabbing some simple pants and a basic shirt. When he returned, he held them out. When the angel grabbed them he said, “You can keep them by the way.”

 

 

Decanus watched Castiel leave the room, confused at the man's miniature freak out. Were clothes really that important to humans? Why were they so disgusted at nudity? Humans were weird animals indeed. He made a movement to follow Castiel to the other room but Rust warned him it would be a bad idea. He figured Rust knew Castiel more than him so he stayed put, wanting to be on his charge's good side. If they were to be together for the next indeterminable amount of years he figured it best for them to enjoy each others company.

 

Castiel returned soon enough and held out a pair of worn jeans and a black tee shirt, also worn and old. Decanus took them slowly, unsure of what he was supposed to do with them. Castiel said he could keep them but he couldn't figure out why he would want these possessions in the first place. With an attempted shrug he once witnessed Anniel do to one of his questions he did not question. He felt his shrug was improper however, as he did not know whether or not he was supposed to lower them once raised. He kept them just an inch raised, unsure of this gesture already.

 

“These... Will do I suppose.” He said slowly, skimming knowledge from Castiel's mind to figure out how to put on these 'clothes'. With slow, jerky movements he put on the shirt, followed by the pants which upon zipping up he felt he made a horrible mistake. He twitched just the slightest, wondering why his vessel so vehemently disagreed with what he had just done.

 

A quick scan of his body told him he harmed his lower regions, the metal teeth of the zipper pinching the skin. He healed the pain, deciding it best not to mention this, previous knowledge found from Castiel telling him that this zone was one that humans did not like to discuss. Why, he would never know, but he guessed it best not to make the matter worse.

 

“This is... Proper yes?” He asked, confusion marring his voice.

 

 

When Decanus returned, he was finally dressed and he breathed a sigh of relief. He asked him whether or not it was proper and he merely nodded. He patted him on the shoulder, finding that it was a bad move when he felt Decanus tense. Probably wasn't use to touch.

 

He looked at the time: 11:29 PM. _Shit._ He had work tomorrow. Castiel had to sleep and what was he supposed to do with the angel? Having Decanus watch him while he slept unnerved him. He took a moment to think. Then an idea hit him. Decanus could wait outside the hall way until he fell to a slumber and then, when certain he was asleep, could enter the room.

 

He licked his lips and turned to Decanus, explaining his idea. Decanus seemed to be alright with his plan and when he finally settled into bed, the angel obediently waited outside his bedroom until he slept.

 

 

Decanus was waiting outside Castiel's bedroom door, stance stiff and confused at the whole idea. Why should he wait outside when he can merely wait by his side? Would he not be safer then? He was certainly finding human ways mind boggling. He heard a rustle of movement and looked down to find Rust padding over to him, sitting by his foot and looking up at him with wide eyes.

 

“ _Why aren't you inside_?” Rust questioned. Decanus furrowed his brow (he was proud he managed to do that properly), finding it odd that Rust asked him. Perhaps even animals were confused by human ways. He was glad he was not the only one.

 

“Could I not ask you the same thing?” He said back, feeling the question proper. Rust looked to his paws, raising one to lick at it before brushing it against his forehead. Clenaing himself, Decanus noted.

 

“ _You seemed like you needed more company than Master_.” Rust supplied. Decanus found this odd, he was not in needance of company. He was very capable of waiting something hours for his charge to awake. He said as much and the cat merely stared blankly at him, as if his answer was redundant. Decanus did not want to speak more of himself and decided to go a different route in their conversation.

 

“Why do you refer to Cas... _tiel_ as your 'Master', and not just by his name?” He said the name slightly awkward, tagging the 'tiel' on slowly and unsure. The feline once more looked at him as if he was ridiculus.

 

“ _Because that's what he is, he is my owner, my master_.” Rust said, tilting his head down to lap at his chest.

 

“Oh.” Decanus found what he said strange and commented no further, finding solace in the silence of the night, and the steady breathing of the creature by him.

 


End file.
